


by a thread

by Dr_WD_Gaster



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Blood and Gore, Character Study, Ficlet, Gen, Ghosts, Insomnia, Mild Gore, One Shot, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-31 08:27:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18587503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_WD_Gaster/pseuds/Dr_WD_Gaster
Summary: Okay, Danny thought. This was definitely a pattern. He’d woken up at arse o’clock in the morning, for the ninth time that month





	by a thread

It started out small.

Danny was busy getting ready for school when he, in all his lanky teenage glory, bumped into a door frame with his elbow, hard enough to bruise, which he knew because Sam mentioned it during Chemistry.

When he came home from school and was bitching to Jazz about his day, she’d looked at him funny when he told her of the bruise on his elbow. And made him look in the mirror when he’d insisted that he had one.

No bruise.

‘Huh?’ he thought to himself, ‘Didn’t know my healing factor was that fast.’

* * *

 The next time he noticed it happening, was when he cut his finger in Biology. They were dissection a sheep’s eye, and his hand had slipped while trying to pierce the sclera, stabbing himself in the process. The cut wasn’t that deep, but it still burned like a fucker. He’d stuck the offending digit in his mouth, and when he pulled it out a few moments later, he could see the skin knitting itself back together.

He’d been staring at his finger in wonder, long enough for Tucker to notice, but he just waved it away.

* * *

 This was more serious. A tiger-like ghost, white fur, glowing green stripes, saliva dripping teeth, and razor claws, had gauged three deep wounds on his calf. It hurt like a bitch, and Danny gritted his teeth as he had to put some of his weight on his bad leg. But he had to continue. The tiger was about to tear a bloody path to the city centre, but he couldn’t let that happen. So even as he felt the blood run down his leg, he soldiered on.

It was only after the adrenaline from the fight had worn off, and he was sitting in a tree to catch his breath, that he realized that his leg wasn’t hurting anymore. Fiddling for the zipper in his boot, he peeled back the HAZMAT suit and noted that, although still caked in blood, the three claw marks had faded into more of a scratch.

* * *

 

 When Sam threw him an apple a month later, all he could taste was ashes. He spat his bite out on the grass in disgust, asking what the fuck was wrong with the apple. She’d looked a little offended and reached for her own, and bit into it. She told him nothing was wrong, that she had grown them in her own garden, and that both apples had come from the same tree. Danny had apologized for his rude behaviour, but left the apple alone. 

He got home and decided to test a theory. He walked to the fridge and made himself a sandwich, making sure that everything was still good, and popped it into his mouth. Again, instead of the familiar taste a PB&J, all he got was dry, cloying dust. With a grimace, he spat it out into the garbage and threw in the rest of the sandwich for good measure. Feeling that rinsing out his mouth with water would be the way to go, he grabbed a glass from the countertop and filled it to the brim with cool, fresh, water.

He gagged as soon as it hit his tongue.

It only made the flavour worse, disgusting as it was, and he sat there in misery for a few seconds.

He wracked his brain for the last time he’d eaten a good meal and frowned when he couldn’t properly remember. His schedule was erratic at best, so it didn’t surprise him that he hadn’t sat himself down to eat. Now that he thought about it, he had gotten a really bad stomach ache a week ago, but that had settled down easily enough. Hunger pains? Maybe, he wasn’t sure anymore.

* * *

 Okay, Danny thought. This was definitely a pattern. He’d woken up at arse o’clock in the morning, for the ninth time that month, feeling refreshed and ready to go. He had tried to get back to sleep, but his body wouldn’t let him. Staring at the ceiling wasn’t doing him any wonders either. So, Danny Fenton did the unthinkable. He clicked on his desk lamp and made his homework. For the first time, since freshman year, he’d made his homework.

Lancer was so proud the next day. Honestly, he could have sworn the man was weeping tears of joy.

So, he’d continued. Whenever another bout of insomnia took him, he made his homework, worked on projects, and learned for tests.

This became a problem when he ran out of work to do. He’d already read ahead for all his classes. Mainly because sleep evaded him at all times now. Yes, he got ready for bed, put on a sleeping shirt, and clicked the lights off. But after staring at the ceiling for an hour, with no hint of getting tired, he’d picked up a book and started to read.

* * *

 Slowly but surely, in the span of a year, Danny Fenton changed. For better or for worse, he couldn’t say. His family and friends would probably say for the better. He had more free time, considering he had a whole extra nine hours to do work in, which improved his relationship with his friends while maintaining a steady GPA.

Yeah, whatever happened to him was still strange, and scary, but he’d had a whole year to acclimatize, and he’d just rolled with it.

He still had major questions. Like, if he’d stopped eating and sleeping, when would he stop breathing? Would he stop feeling altogether? When would the changes stop? But the big one, the why of it all, was quite simple.

A ghost doesn’t do human things.

Because they’re not human anymore.


End file.
